


Lemon Pie

by Siilence



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siilence/pseuds/Siilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil has a new apron and a new hobby, Carlos has a new hunger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemon Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Practicing my hand at writing porn. I'm sorry.

Scientifically, there should not have been anything remotely intriguing about the apron. Sure, it was frilly and feminine, but that was pretty far from the strangest thing Carlos had ever seen him wear. So really, walking in on Cecil while he was tying the apron around his middle should have not been nearly as… alluring as Carlos was finding it to be.

Cecil was oblivious. He finished the ties in a tight bow that matched the ribbon holding his long dark hair in a ponytail. There were various bowls and baking supplies littering the kitchen counters.

“Cecil, I didn’t know you baked.”

“Hm?” Cecil had been skimming instructions, but turned at the voice. “Once in a while.”

The front of the apron was all pastel colors, little cupcakes with tentacles and eyes. It was very reminiscent of the old sitcom stay-at-home-mothers. Except the eyes were blinking, the tentacles undulating on the pattern.

“What’re you making?” Carlos asked when Cecil turned back to his project. He could not help the way his eyes followed the tight movements of that bow, down to the fitted pair of sweatpants his boyfriend was wearing. They were a little too long for him, puddling in soft black fabric over his toes. Carlos had pulled those off him many a times and knew how soft they felt.

“Oh it’s a secret. But I know you’re gonna like it.”

Carlos took a seat at the kitchen table, watching Cecil measure out ingredients, pop over to the open recipe book and check his progress. “And how do you know that?”

Cecil turned to look at him, smudging a bit of flour when he brushed loose hair from his face. “You mentioned it a while ago,” he was smiling in that way he did when he had some kind of trick up his sleeve. Carlos loved that smile, it always promised wonderful, if sometimes terrifying things.

“Very sneaky.” 

Cecil laughed and went back to baking. There was an old glass of water still on the table, Carlos finished it off, watching his boyfriend bake. He thought about the apron, about how much he liked seeing Cecil in the kitchen, whipping up some kind of confectionery treat. It was very homey, very old married couple.

And there was something about that vein of thought that was just so hot.

It didn’t hurt that Cecil was bending over their plastics cabinet looking for the right bowl, wiping sugar and confectionery sugar on the sides of his apron, swinging his hips as though to an imaginary tune. Carlos wondered if he had left the radio on that Summer Sonar Beats station.

The mixer came out next, Carlos watched in amusement as his boyfriend went at the bowl, turning it and moving the mixer in conjunction. Then the machine was turned off and he was offering Carlos a whisk with something airy and white on it.

“This is just the whipped cream for it.” Carlos took the offered whisk and was about to taste before his eyes caught sight of Cecil. He was scooping the cream between the metal prongs and it wasn’t even sexual, not really, but there was something captivating about it.

Maybe there was something in the air.

“What?” Cecil stopped, a bit of whipped cream on the corner of his lips.

As a scientist, Carlos hadn’t gathered enough data to draw a conclusion about his own feelings. “You’re beautiful,” he went with instead.

Cecil blushed a pretty purple and then shuffled closer to press a sugary tasting kiss to his mouth. “You’re sweet, but try the whipped cream, I need to know if you like it.”

Carlos licked a dollop off the whisk, it was perfect and he told his boyfriend so.

“Yes!” Cecil collected the whisk off him and dropped both into the sink. “Just a little left, then it needs to set. We could watch some Netflix or something?”

But Cecil was back to swaying his hips, bent over whatever treat he was working on and Carlos was back in that fumbling place of trying to figure out why he suddenly wanted to press his boyfriend up against that same counter and fuck him.

Maybe it was just one of those things. They had started learning more about each other in the bedroom and while Carlos was always trying to figure out why he liked something, Cecil was constantly trying to coach him to just go with it. 

Cecil was layering whipped cream on something that looked like a pie, humming to himself to that unheard beat. Carlos knew that when he finished Cecil would want to wash all the dishes and then change out of his apron, he enjoyed keeping their home neat.

But as Cecil finished the whipped cream and slid the pie into their refrigerator Carlos came to a conclusion. He was just going to go with it.

So when Cecil shut the refrigerator and turned to regard him with a proud smile Carlos was already right in front of him, crowding his space. “Oh!” Cecil gasped and took an automatic step back, his back touching corner of counter and refrigerator.

“I’ve found something new.” Carlos moved to pin his boyfriend against the counter, his arms encaging him.

Cecil was looking up at him, wide-eyed, the white smudge still across his cheek. “Something new?”

Carlos pressed in, connecting their hips. He was half hard, and although Cecil wouldn’t feel in through all the fabric between them, it got the point across. “Yeah.” 

Carlos leaned in to that soft space of Cecil’s neck. It smelled faintly of sugar. “That apron.”

“O-oh.” He could feel Cecil take a deep breath against him, his shoulders dropping, head tilting. Carlos loved the way Cecil grew small and pliant when he took charge. 

“But I think we’re going to need lube,” Carlos slid his mouth down Cecil’s neck. “Would you like to go get it?” His left hand let go of the counter and grazed the frilly edges of the apron and then around to touch Cecil’s waist.

“Yes.” But Carlos still had hands and mouth on him and he didn’t move.

Carlos sucked a welt onto his neck. “I want to fuck you against this counter.” Cecil panted, a small needy noise escaping his parted lips. “Go get it.” It was a command this time, but Carlos tightened his hand on Cecil’s waist, nibbling his teeth up to Cecil’s ear.

“Ah, Carlos, please.”

“What are you waiting for?” He laughed when Cecil whined and tried to rut his hips against Carlos’. “Don’t you,” Carlos pressed his hips tightly against Cecil’s, both of his hands wandering beneath the apron to skim across the soft black fabric of the sweatpants, “want this?” Cecil shuttered.

And then all at once Carlos pulled away, stepping back to drink in the sight before him. Cecil’s eyes were partially closed, his mouth and eyebrows contorted in a plea, hands grasped at the counter drawers to keep himself steady. He blinked his eyes open at the lack of contact.

“I’m waiting.”

Cecil was gone a second later, there was the sound of their bedroom door opening and then his feet pattering back toward the kitchen. Carlos took the bottle from him, setting it down on the counter right beside the still open sugar. Cecil he manhandled against the same counter, this time his front pressed to the hard edge. Carlos crowded him again, his mouth finding the other side of Cecil’s neck while he rubbed his clothed erection against Cecil’s ass. “Hands on the counter.”

There were no clean surfaces, so Cecil rested his palms on a scattering of flour and sugar.  
Carlos stilled for a moment, nuzzling his boyfriends neck. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, sweet spire, yes.” 

And then Carlos was kissing his jaw, turning his head enough to catch the corner of Cecil’s mouth. His hands ran down the front of the apron, sliding beneath the edges to stroke Cecil ever so gently.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He mumbled it between kisses that tasted like whipped cream. When Cecil cried out again and ground his ass against Carlos, Carlos’ hands moved back up the waistband and pulled down the sweatpants.

Carlos reached around Cecil for the bottle and clicked it open, spreading a generous amount onto his other hand. “You’re so good to me, darling.” His slicked fingers slid down between the two of them, touching teasingly at Cecil’s entrance. “I want this to be slow, but there’s no way with the sounds you’re making.” And on cue Carlos pressed one finger in as Cecil cried out, head bowing almost to the countertop.

Carlos worked him quickly, scissoring his fingers in, trying to ignore the way Cecil was meeting his thrusting, breathing hard and sending plumes of white powder across the countertop. He sucked a matching mark onto Cecil’s neck, his other hand lingering ever so slightly over Cecil’s own erection.

At three fingers Carlos pulled his hand out and frantically unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them and his boxers out of the way. He went back for the lube, this time for both his hands, smearing some across the apron and Cecil’s thighs when his second hand moved back under the apron to firmly wrap around Cecil.

“Please, Carlos.”

“Just one more second sweetness.” Carlos slicked himself with his other hand, lining his cock up and then pressing into that tight, warm space.

Cecil cried out, his head falling onto the counter, his hands curling and scraping against the surface. Carlos stilled a moment, breathing wetly into Cecil’s shoulder. The hand on Cecil’s cock moved, slick with lube. Cecil was still wearing the apron and the head of his cock on every stroke was grazing the fabric.

“How’s that?”

Cecil made a noise every time the head brushed against the harsher fabric. “Horrible, don’t stop.”

A dark laugh rumbled in Carlos’ chest and he slowed his hand, dragging the sensitive tip against the fabric with longer strokes. Cecil shuttered again and Carlos felt the reaction pulse down his spine, demanding he move his hips.

Carlos pulled almost all the way out and then slammed back into Cecil. There was a sharp cry and a plea for more. With his free hand still sticky, he wrapped it around the curve of Cecil’s hip and started a punishing pace. Every few thrusts his hand still around Cecil’s cock would stroke up and slide against the apron.

Cecil was coming apart with it, thrusting back into Carlos and then up into his hand. His words were disintegrating into beautiful sounds, dragging Carlos closer and closer to the edge. He gripped hard at Cecil’s waist, bit into the soft flesh of the shoulder and tried to push down the overwhelming heat.

But then Cecil was tensing, squeezing around him and Carlos was lost, almost there—Cecil was coming in his hard, pulsing hot and sticky all over the inside of his apron. Carlos let him go, smeared his hand on a fistful of the pink cupcake apron and then drove into Cecil once more before his orgasm crashed into him.

It pulsed, hot and tight and he breathed air that smelled like sugar and Cecil. Felt the possessive feeling of home, of his beautiful and strange boyfriend making desserts in an obnoxiously pink apron. He curled his arms the rest of the way over Cecil’s stomach, smearing cum and flour. Cecil caught his breath, lifted his head and turned in askance for a kiss.

Carlos kissed him, then looked down at the mess, at the powder all over Cecil’s face and swiped onto the floor. “If I’ve ruined your apron, I will absolutely buy you another.”

Cecil laughed, “Don’t worry, I don’t even bake that often. Although,” The mischief came back to Cecil’s face and he drew a white mark across Carlos’ cheek. “Today may have given me very good incentive to get more interested.”


End file.
